The often referred to Pink Cloud is a true phenomenon. One which leaves you even more head-scratchingly baffled when it explodes, and you're left standing there, awkwardly covered in Pink Cloud remnant goo, unsure of whether you should clean up and go on, or run with reckless abandon back to your favorite liquor store. (You know the one: where they know you by name and refer to that cheap bottle of $7.99 Vendange Chardonnay as your "usual"). I can't say I wasn't forewarned about riding that lovely pink cloud of comfort and sober glee. And how it would someday blow up in my face. I even dare say that I thought I was the ONE addict who would evade the issue of the inevitable explosion of the honeymoon period with my new lover, Sobriety. But I am sweetly reminded by my higher power to get off my high, terminally unique, horse, and live among the common recovering addicts. My high and lofty conversations with my committee surely weren't getting me anywhere. I will spare you the stories about drinking fruit flies along with the wine straight out of the bottle. Oh, and the nosebleeds. Can't forget those! So what gives?! I'm either flying high on the Pink Cloud of Sobriety, or down in the Pit of Despair. (Princess Bride reference).
It shouldn't surprise me that I have a difficult time with the dreaded Middle Ground. I'm all too good at the extremes. The drama. The highs. (Pun intended). And the lows. That unexplored no-man's land, which my sponsor annoyingly pointed out is usually referred to as "stable", is where I get befuddled. I was thoroughly enjoying recovery when I was in Pink Cloud mode. Cause it was fun. It felt good. I was in the mood. The lesson I'm learning is that the gritty and authentic recovery isn't quite so sparkly. It's about staying sober when you're NOT in the mood to stay sober. It's not as if I loved every moment of treatment. But I was just so glad to be out of the hell that I had been living in that I was willing to do anything. That anything was a relief. Day to day doldrums have sunk in. And while I'm still thrilled that I don't have to wake up anymore at 3am in full blown withdrawal, I'm not always particularly in the mood to be sober. It's not as much of a relief as it used to feel. But i guess the only solution is to snuggle right back up with Powerlessness, and remember exactly what it was like to be at my bottom. Cause it was pretty low. And to hold onto God like he's going out of style. I guess when you think about it, maybe stable isn't that bad.
It shouldn't surprise me that I have a difficult time with the dreaded Middle Ground. I'm all too good at the extremes. The drama. The highs. (Pun intended). And the lows. That unexplored no-man's land, which my sponsor annoyingly pointed out is usually referred to as "stable", is where I get befuddled. I was thoroughly enjoying recovery when I was in Pink Cloud mode. Cause it was fun. It felt good. I was in the mood. The lesson I'm learning is that the gritty and authentic recovery isn't quite so sparkly. It's about staying sober when you're NOT in the mood to stay sober. It's not as if I loved every moment of treatment. But I was just so glad to be out of the hell that I had been living in that I was willing to do anything. That anything was a relief. Day to day doldrums have sunk in. And while I'm still thrilled that I don't have to wake up anymore at 3am in full blown withdrawal, I'm not always particularly in the mood to be sober. It's not as much of a relief as it used to feel. But i guess the only solution is to snuggle right back up with Powerlessness, and remember exactly what it was like to be at my bottom. Cause it was pretty low. And to hold onto God like he's going out of style. I guess when you think about it, maybe stable isn't that bad.
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